


Sunrise, Sunset.

by mjs0515



Category: 2PM (Band)
Genre: AU, M/M, except for Taec's greasiness, i know my summary sucks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-21
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-08 04:46:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5483951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjs0515/pseuds/mjs0515
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life is an inevitable cycle, a series of giving and taking. The constant colors of the rising sun exudes tranquility, a message of hope and peace, while the chaotic patterns of the setting of the very same sun conveys a magnificent ending.</p><p>In a push and pull of saving and collecting, which one will be more beautiful: the sunrise or the sunset?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I.

**Author's Note:**

> For Anne.
> 
>  **DISCLAIMER:** Nope, 2PM's still ain't mine. The mistakes and typos in this fic, however, are mine and I'd like to apologize in advance should there be any.

“Are you God?” the little girl asks.

“No,” the man answers, smiling softly. “My name is Junho.”

“Mommy will understand someday, right? I’d still be able to watch over her from heaven, and she will always be my only mommy,” the girl states, the courage in her voice making Junho proud.

“Can I ask you something?” Junho asks after a few beats of silence, and the kid nods in response. “What did you like best?”

“Banana milk,” she whispers immediately.

“What’s that? Does it taste good?”

“You mean you’ve never tried it?”

“No.” Junho’s lower lip sticks out in a pout.

“Oh. That sucks. It’s the most delicious thing ever.”

Junho could only chuckle at that, and they fall in silence once more as he offers his hand for the girl to take, and leads her home.

  


Tough night?” Wooyoung claps Junho’s shoulder as the former settles down by his side.

“She was just a little kid, barely six years old, but she was tough. She understands that her mom can’t go with her.” Junho shakes his head. “Sometimes I wonder why He does that. They still have so much left of their lives…”

“We will never know. But I’m pretty sure He has something better planned for these kids.” Wooyoung playfully ruffles Junho’s hair and they grin warmly at each other before Junho inquires about his friend’s adventures for the day. “How about you, had fun?”

“Oh yeah, I did. I broke Mr. Jang’s phone to prevent him from waking up in time for his night shift. It was the only strategy I could think of to make sure he doesn’t get involved in that nasty highway pile-up on his way to work. Anyway, he has— _had_ this new alarm app thingy that wouldn’t shut up until he’s completely awake. I didn’t know how to turn it off and there was just a minute left until it rings, so I was forced to tinker it a bit and kind of broke the volume.”

Junho snickers. “Always so creative.”

“Tell me about it. Man, I hate technology,” Wooyoung complains, and then narrows his eyes at Junho who coughs out something akin to _you’re just getting old_. “Really, all these changes are challenging. I’m starting to have to think of different tactics everyday to help them. Should there be advanced training sessions somewhere, tell me where to sign up and I will in an instant.”

“Challenge? I’d like some of that. I’m getting bored of predictability,” Junho mutters.

Truth is, there have been lots of times when he envies Wooyoung (even if he will never admit it out loud). Unlike his best friend who guards and saves humans, Junho has always been a “fetcher”, an angel who leads souls to the afterlife. Junho loves his job—there is definitely no question in that because to be able to guide humans to the other side is such an honor—but sometimes he hates it too, doesn’t want to do it, especially when the soul he’s bringing back is confused and struggles to part with his loved ones. He knows how to comfort them, how to reassure them, but he _loathes_ taking them away nonetheless.

The two of them stay like that atop a skyscraper overlooking Seoul, sometimes recounting stories and laughing loudly, other times simply watching the city lights twinkle and the traffic pass beneath them, until the city starts to wake up. Junho stretches his arms and starts to stand up. “Time to fly, brother,” he urges Wooyoung.

They unfurl their wings, two pairs slightly different from each other but both equally white and glorious. They then speed off, arriving just in time for their daily habit.

  


It’s 5:00 in the morning and dawn is breaking. Two figures are standing by the beach, their faces calm, the atmosphere serene and breathtaking. A harmonious tune resonates in the air, heard only by the angles whose invisible yet ethereal presence makes the moment even more magical.

Side by side, they watch the ball of light rise slowly from an undisturbed slumber, its glorious rays casting a faint shimmer in the tranquil waves. The yellow breaks through the insipid grey and gives way to a bright blue sky, its splendor as significant as the message it brings.

A new day comes. _A sign of renewed hope._

  


**~**

  


Chansung wakes up with a start. He sits up panting and looks around, a bit disoriented from being woken up by a nightmare he can’t even recall.

He pats around the bed for his phone and sees that it’s still 5:30am. There’s an hour more before he needs to get up, but he knows he wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep anyway so he decides to start the day early instead of uselessly tossing and turning in bed.

He mindlessly goes through his mundane routine—takes a shower (scalding hot) and dresses up (in casual clothes; he can change into his scrubs in the hospital) for work, cooks and eats his breakfast (kimchi fried rice today) in front of the flat screen tv (which plays reruns of the Simpsons). Jeonggam lazily struts to the sofa to keep his owner company, and Chansung sets his empty plate aside to stroke the cat’s soft gray fur.

The apartment is quiet—too quiet, perhaps. The silence suffocates Chansung, filling his mind with sounds of laughter he longs to hear again in this big, empty house. He misses _him_ , the ruckus and mess he makes even when he’s asleep. Misses the way they would study beside each other at night, how they’d try to cook on weekends and day-offs, only for them to fail and turn the kitchen upside-down. He misses being back to how they used to be, but figures that no amount of moping will make things better at this moment.

_I guess not even being one of the country’s most highly-paid surgeons can ensure happiness_ , Chansung muses.

  


The atmosphere outside is sunny with just a hint of cool wind, and it affects Chansung’s mood in a positive way. Opting to take his bike, he pedals his way to work, basking in the sunlight and allowing it to lift his spirits up a bit. He even takes a detour to his favorite quaint little café a block away from the hospital, and leaves with bags full of snacks and a barrage couple of reminders from the owner, Nichkhun. (“Yes I will give these to your husband, and yes I will remind him not to forget his vitamins—for heaven’s sake he shouldn’t forget about that anyway—and yes I will go to tonight’s dinner, don’t you worry.”)

As soon as he gets to the hospital, the first sight to greet him is the bright and toothy smile of the surgeon everyone has been crushing on since they both started working there. Said doctor is leaning on the reception counter, chatting idly with a blushing nurse about to swoon. Chansung can’t blame her, not really, because Taecyeon does look like an Adonis—perfect hair, chiseled jaw, sculpted body. He, like Chansung, is also one of the best surgeons the hospital has known, and it caused them both to move up the ranks quite quickly. Some say that it’s only due to the fact that Taecyeon’s father is the hospital’s Chief of Staff, but Chansung knows very well that his best friend’s success is well-deserved. “They’re just jealous because they see the pretty nurses falling at your feet and hanging on to your every word,” he would often joke, and Taec would scoff at him.

The thing is, despite how manly and commanding Taecyeon may look on the outside, he is actually a cinnamon roll deep inside. He’s a dork who loves to draw hideous cats and pull pranks on people in his free time. And besides, he would probably appreciate the flirting more had they come from the hot _male_ nurses and not the female ones—who, in his opinion, whine too much—but only IF he weren’t married to another piece of hunk as perfect as him. They’re very much deeply in love with each other, a love accompanied with shouts of “deeper” that Chansung has witnessed one too many times, to his horror.

“Chansung, you’re early today,” Taecyeon greets him with a like a Cheshire cat, teeth and all, and it makes Chansung grin back at him. “Hey man. You look like shit,” Chansung teases, though there is a hint of worry laced in his words. “How many hours has it been since you last slept, Taec?”

“Almost 30, I think? I was about to go home last night after my shift but there was a big pile-up near Myeongdong and ER got busy. Since Doctor Lim was on leave, I went down to help. Not that I didn’t want to. Of course I wanted to,” he babbles with wild hand gestures. Chansung motions for him to stop talking and moving, and it wasn’t until the third try that he gets the crazy doctor’s attention. “I brought you orange juice and pastries for you, courtesy of that hot baker down the street. Now eat that, and then go home and rest.”

“Yes, mom. But maybe I should fetch Khunnie first, I won’t really be full unless I have my dessert.” Taecyeon starts making crude gestures and Chansung hits him on the head, half-disgusted and half-amused at the doctor whose brain is clearly addled with too much coffee and not enough sleep.

  


Before Taec finally goes, though, he grasps Chansung’s shoulder affectionately. “You’re going to see him first right? Don’t worry, I just checked on him too. He’s awake, probably waiting for you.”

Chansung thanks him, returning the affection with a pat on the back. After making sure that Taecyeon’s already in his office eating, he makes his way up the elevator and down the corridors, arriving in front of room 409—the room where _he_ has been staying for almost a month already. He takes a deep breath, as if preparing himself, as if he’s afraid to see what lies behind that door.

  


“Hyung!” a 10-year-old Minjun exclaims as soon as Chansung opens the door, and the child runs to his side and tugs at his hand, pulling him inside. He sits down beside Minjun on the brightly patterned bed, and Minjun automatically launches into an animated story of one of his dreams—something about Superman saving him with the help of two poodles called Denver and Noopy.

The sight of his younger brother being all chatty and strong brings a smile to Chansung’s face. It feels a tad like they’re back to normal even for just a couple of minutes, momentarily forgetting about all the problems outside their little bubble.

  


**~**

  


Samsung Medical Center is one of Junho’s so-called turfs, and he likes to visit the place even when he’s not on a mission. Unseen by the bustling doctors and nurses, he watches with fascination the way they find strength within them and struggle to save their patients’ lives even when sometimes, it’s already a futile attempt. It’s a cycle that they cannot prevent; live gives, and life takes.

His favourite area is the children’s ward; there is something about these kids, especially those who know that they can no longer be cured. Although stripped of the ability to generate human emotions himself, Junho can perceive the aura humans emit, and he thrives on the way these children produce nothing but warmth and innocence and hope despite their illnesses. They don’t linger in the agony but rather try to find joy in very simple things such as the cute little drawings covering the walls and all traces of resignation.

Junho slowly treks along the corridors echoing with soft giggling and the quiet beeping of machines. He sighs deeply, and then the wind carries a sound that pushes him to peek into the nearest room.

There he sees Minjun, one of the newest kids in the hospital, sitting on his bed and loudly recounting with exaggerated gestures a tale of flying and adventures, and Junho smiles. He knows the kid doesn’t have much time left, and Junho is amazed at how Minjun has been handling his condition—with a brave face forward, unafraid and even welcoming of his next journey.

Today, the kid has a visitor. The tall man must be one of the doctors as he is wearing a white coat over blue scrubs, a medical mask covering half of his features. Junho doesn’t recognize him, so he must either be new or he’s from another department that the angel doesn’t often visit.

Minjun continues to tell his story, but the doctor’s mind is obviously miles away, his stare focused at an invisible point beyond the kid’s shoulder. Out of curiosity, Junho moves closer and bends down in front of the doctor, trying to peer into his eyes and seek for any emotion there.

But then the doctor turns to him.

He turns and stares directly at Junho, and the moment is so shocking yet beautiful that Junho shivers. He suddenly feels uprooted by those eyes—big, round and dark brown with flecks of gold, he notes—eyes that stare at him and seemingly sees him and through his soul. Eyes swirling with so much emotion—a war of pain, of hope, of desperation, but most of all, there’s a steely determination slowly forming in that gaze. It holds Junho in place while _something_ stirs within him, pulling at his heart.

It’s as if the doctor’s telling him to back off, that the kid is not for him to take.

“It should be impossible, but c-can you see me?” he stutters quietly, waving his hand in front of the doctor’s face. He doesn’t get a response, though.

Nothing.

_Of course._

  


“Have you ever wondered what it’s like to be seen and touched?” Junho asks as they sit at their usual spot every night.

Wooyoung readily shakes his head no, but Junho raises one eyebrow at him and he caves in. “Alright, yes I do occasionally. Why’d you ask?”

“Nothing. It’s just that there’s this doctor at the hospital. He was visiting one of the kids with leukemia—the kid’s fine right now but Wooyoung shushes him with a finger to his lips, knowing that there’s a reason for his pal to react like this. “Junho, you’re rambling. Tell me what’s bothering you.”

Junho takes a deep breath as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say. “He looked at me, Wooyoung. He looked straight into me like he _sees_ me,” he explains with wide eyes.

“Well, did he?”

“No, as usual; I tried to talk to him but got no reaction. It’s impossible for them to see us so I wasn’t surprised anyway. But you know, at that moment, I kind of wanted him to see me. His eyes…there was a conflict of emotions in his eyes but the most prominent there was pain. I felt an urge to go to him, to ask what his problem is and comfort him. To tell him it’s all going to be alright...” he trails off, so lost in his thoughts that he misses the worried glance Wooyoung sends his way.

“You can talk to me about it whenever you want to, okay? Just be careful, please. You know the rules,” Wooyoung warns him, squeezing his hand, and Junho can only hum in agreement, knowing very well what his friend means.


	2. II.

Junho never found a peace of mind after that surprising encounter, not even after talking to Wooyoung. No matter how much he tried to brush it off, to him, the doctor has become like an enigma waiting to be figured out, someone cloaked with an air of mystery that fascinates the angel and lures him further in. He's become completely enamored with those big brown eyes and the intensity behind them and wants—no, _needs_ to see them again.

So he makes a decision. Like a shadow, he would watch him and follow him around the hospital, waiting for any piece of information he can gather. _Just until I put the puzzle pieces together,_ he convinces himself.

 

He had no idea just how hard that would be. Two days had gone by yet all he found are mere facts, and each small information only served to make the angel even more intrigued. He had learned that his name is Hwang Chansung, and that Minjun is his little brother, which explains his attachment to the kid. 

As more days pass, Junho finds himself even more drawn to him, and what started as mere curiosity slowly morphs into admiration. The force with which Chansung plunges himself into his work is striking. Despite being the youngest surgeon in the hospital, he carries himself with a confident and determined aura especially in the operating room, earning a lot of his colleagues’ respect. Unlike his other surgeon friend, though, he isn’t really a highly sociable person, and mostly seems to prefer to go home after his shift than go out drinking with friends.

Yet Junho notices how his demeanor changes the moment his steps into Room 409 to spend time with his baby brother. He would always pause for a bit to take a deep breath before opening the door, and like a switch, a smile would appear on his face and the almost constant crease on his forehead would disappear. There’s still a trace of pain behind his eyes, but it’s clear with the way his shoulders would relax that his mood turns positive every time he’s around his brother, as if a boulder has been lifted off his shoulders.

What probably intrigues Junho the most is Chansung’s peculiar ability to turn his world upside-down with a single glance. Granted, it only happened once and the doctor did not really see him, but that short moment was enough to shake the angel to his very core and make him question things about humanity that he thought he already knew.

 

By the end of the week, the frustrated angel makes up his mind to trail behind Chansung as he goes home in the hopes of finding answers in the things he surrounds himself with. Junho knows that this could lead him to trouble— _Chansung_ is trouble—it’s against the rules to do this, to follow him around and violate his privacy, but the angel couldn’t stop himself even if he tried to. And so with him riding on the passenger side of Chansung’s black SUV, they reach an apartment complex in the neighborhood close to the hospital. Junho hums in approval as it appears that the building, inhabited by high-profiles, is well-secured and safe.

Their journey up the floors was quiet until a _ding_ sounds out when they reach the 11th floor. Chansung drags his feet to the end of the hallway and punches in his code, and the door opens to an apartment that looks like it should belong in a lifestyle magazine. While nothing extravagant, the furniture still look expensive, matching well with some intricate interior decorations and lighting strategically hanging on the ceiling and walls. There’s a warm feeling to it, yet at the same time feels rather empty, as if it hasn’t really been a real home to the doctor for quite a while.

With dim lights and soft music floating around them, Junho watches Chansung cross the floor to the glass wall overlooking the city, a crystal goblet filled with red wine in his hand. They both lean on the glass, and Chansung lets out a deep sigh. Standing face-to-face, Junho takes this time to fully observe the man’s face, taking note of every little detail, from the long lashes casting shadows on his cheekbones to the sharp slope of his nose and the soft edges of his jaw. Chansung closes his eyes, and Junho’s gaze follows an invisible path as the wine travels from his lips down his throat, and the man’s long, nimble fingers grasp the tie around his neck to pull it off before unbuttoning his shirt.

Usually, humans hold no interest for him. But for some reason, Junho couldn’t take his eyes away from Chansung. He remains staring unabashedly, somehow comforted by the silence around them. The city lights continue to twinkle outside, the many different colours casting their reflection on the pale canvas of Chansung’s skin.

_Beautiful_ , the angel thinks.

 

Junho ends his perusal of the apartment, lingering in front of the bookcase in Chansung’s room. They’re mostly medical references and psychology books, with a few of classics and some popular mangas. One book caught his eye, however—a copy of _Romeo and Juliet_ , a bit old and tattered at the edges. It seemed out of place, like a delicate flower in the desert. He soundlessly pulls the book out and flips through the pages. Although a bit depressing, the story of star-crossed lovers is one of the most interesting stories he’s ever read, the emotions behind the characters’ actions beyond his comprehension yet so raw and complex.

Suddenly, a loud gasp breaks the silence followed by a whimper and the rustling of sheets, startling Junho. He turns around quickly, only to realize that Chansung is still in deep slumber. He must be having a nightmare with all the tossing and turning he’s doing, and another gasp pours out from his lips, this time sounding closer to a muffled sob. Before he can process what he’s doing, Junho runs to man’s side, one of his hands reaching out to touch Chansung’s face and wipe away the lone tear that has escaped.

As the tips of his fingers graze the other’s cheeks, something inexplicable shifts within them. As impossible as it is for him to feel Junho’s touch, Chansung sighs deeply, his facial features softening as if his pain was wiped out by the angel’s ethereal touch.

And all the while, Junho could feel invisible strings incessantly pulling at his heart.

The angel stops hesitating. He leans in, and rules get broken and the fine line between what is right and what is wrong become blurry the moment he presses his lips to Chansung’s forehead.


End file.
